Only one person in a thousand knows the trick of really living in the present.

There is as much vanity in self-scourgings as in self-justification.

The past is able to close round certain moments, as if they were seeds, and deliver them again fresh and living in the present.

Inevitably, the flood of literary pornography loosed on us is dulling our reactions of surprise or shock. Its writers are forced to raise the ante, to provide stronger and stronger stimulants. Or try to provide them, since both the manner, the naming of parts and the few inexpressive four-letter words, and the matter, are narrowly limited.

Think of all the really successful men and women you know. Do you know a single one who didn't learn very young the trick of calling attention to himself in the right quarters?

All writers who can claim to be called 'living' must be political in a sense. They must have what the Quakers call a concern to understand what is happening in the world, and must engage themselves, in their writing, to promote no comfortable lies, of the sort which people will pay well to be told rather than the truth.

The young are so much more vulnerable than the old - the stuff is still warm and malleable, it takes impressions.